The Last Kiss
by Lemo Smith
Summary: Written for The Title Challenge. Exactly what the title says, I think? Rated T for a bit of language.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own... H...Harr... Oh _fine. _I don't own Harry Potter. Happy?  
>*sulks and crosses arms*<strong>

**Written for The Title Challenge, which can be found on the HPFC Forum.**

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><p>Our last kiss was on a Wednesday.<p>

I remember that, because Wednesday was when he took time away from her to spend time with me, the one for whom he held supposedly _real _love.

Ah, yet another of his wonderfully woven lies.

On Wednesdays, he would make some flimsy excuse to get away from her, to be with me at some place that at least wasn't work-related. We'd sometimes carefully plan our activities, a secret dinner- _of _course _secret_, I think bitterly- before retiring to a hotel that either one of us booked. Sometimes, we'd forego the plans and hide in my flat, shedding all our clothes and clinging to each other for dear life.

And at the end of our few short hours together, he would make some flimsy excuse with me before he returned to his _official _other. Ha, those two words sound absolutely vile even when I'm not saying them out loud.

Oh, how badly I wanted to be that other.

I absolutely _loathe _Wednesdays, and Thursdays are no better, because it was a Thursday when he came and eradicated any traces of his presence-his very _existence_- from my flat.

_How terribly unfair, _I think glumly, and take another long swig of Firewhisky, straight from the bottle. The burn in my stomach is said to rival no other, and yet it is but a small sting compared to the icy burn in my chest. Each heartbeat causes the pain to get worse, and I wish fervently for it to stop. Just… _stop_.

The traitorous thing keeps on its incessant beating, however, and I sigh to myself. Who else would I sigh to? Picking up my wand with trembling fingers, I charm the chair that I sit in to turn, so that it no longer faces the empty fireplace-it's gathered quite a lot of dust from disuse, to the window on the side, with its curtains pushed open. It's currently the only source of light in this damned cold flat.

Lately, it seems, my body is constantly shaking.

It used to be just my legs. When it first started out, it wasn't much, just a slight quake that I could easily ignore. But one morning it got so bad that I woke up (Did I actually wake up? I never really sleep anymore, after all.) to my bed shaking as though it was in the middle of an earthquake. They didn't stop, even when I cast my modified _Petrificus _spell on my legs-

Ah, the spell? Well, I needed it when the shaking got in the way of my daily life, which was rapidly and now always happening. I've learned to live with it, though, when my body doesn't feel up to cooperating with me or my magic.

Now where was I? Oh yes, the spell. They didn't react, and that was the first time that something didn't; they just kept on shaking. Determined as I was nevertheless to get out of this infernal four-post prison, I swung the shaking limbs over to the side, and tried to stand up.

I crashed to the floor and lay there for several hours, unmoving.

Ah, now I remember. I smile to no one in particular, temporarily snapping out of my reverie to take another long gulp. I remember now, why it got so bad.

That day had been a Wednesday.

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><p>Our last kiss was in June.<p>

May was when things started to turn sour between us. We had our first fights, _real_ fights with curses and hexes and kicks and punches thrown, since Hogwarts, especially since his _engagement, _I sneer, to her was publicly announced. We started to see less and less of each other, because he was busy hanging out with _her _friends and family, celebrating _her _good news.

May was also the first, and last month that he started missing our Wednesdays.

In June, I pulled out all the stops: shouting, yelling, arguing, bargaining, even crying and begging and pleading that this wasn't true. That he was just pulling some elaborate joke. And even with that smile that I only ever gave to him plastered on my desperate face, the face that he used to look at with such warmth and love and adoration, he gave me the cold shoulder and said that this was _his _decision, that nothing I could _ever _do would possibly change the inevitable.

And then he gave me one last kiss, on the cheek, and walked straight out of my flat.

I stood there, and I never figured out how I ended up on the floor, or how morning had mysteriously turned into night.

I remember, because the month after May was the first birthday in a long time that I'd celebrated without him. _Heh_, I laugh; a hollow sound that didn't really reach my ears. Bastard had the decency to do it before my birthday.

I don't quite remember when my laugh turned into a sob.

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><p>Our last kiss was in 2004.<p>

I remember, because in July 2004, the Daily Prophet had been so fucking _pleased _to announce that your wedding date had been finalized. It was to be held on the fifth of June, 2005. My _birthday_.

Is it you, or her that's trying to spite me?

On New Year's 2005, I was supposed to be making plans for our belated celebration on Wednesday, the same itinerary for every Saturday, of every week, of every month, for the past six years.

Old habits die hard, it seems, because I found myself doing exactly that not a minute after midnight. God, how I disgust myself.

But I guess that I disgusted you too.

2004 was supposed to be a great year, with yet another memorable passing of the day the Boy-Who-Lived killed Voldemort. It was apparently made _even _better because the Boy-Who-Lived, became the Boy-Who-Loved.

2005 was made even better, because now the Boy-Who-Loved took it up one notch, becoming the Man-To-Be-Married.

And me? The ex-Death Eater, I suppose. Same as every year.

I sigh heavily, my chest constricting more until it seems to collapse in on itself. When have I started talking as though you are actually here?

I always said you'd drive me insane, but who would have ever guessed you'd finally achieved that when you're not actually there to do it?

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><p>Our last kiss was a year and two days ago.<p>

Now I remember this, just as I have faithfully remembered each and every day, because of the day that I have come to dread with all my heart.

No, it's not because you're getting married tomorrow.

It's because tomorrow marks yet another year of failures, and yet another year of my pathetic existence.

Okay, maybe it's also because you're getting married too. But never mind.

I finally turn away from the view of those blasted stars twinkling at night. They remind me too much of a man long gone. The Firewhiskey has, unfortunately, done nothing to dull my nerves, which have long been frayed due to the sheer fatigue of simply _existing_. All it has done is give me a very bad stomach ache.

Wearily, I rub a hand over my face and close my eyes to get them used to the darkness again. Funny, how I can remember how many days it's been since I last had contact with anyone- father dead, mother somewhere in France, friends nonexistent- yet I don't even remember what I did today. I really got my priorities straight, didn't I.

Oh, look! The doorbell's ringing. How nice of my insane little self to imply that someone will actually care this year to come, and at such an ungodly hour too! You know, that was one of the things that I loved about you; that _you _cared when no one else didn't, even if it wasn't real or that it wasn't for as long as I would have wanted.

And now. I have no one.

Oh, will that bell _please _shut up? And you! Stop your annoying little laugh that sounds like music to my ears. You sound too much like him already. Or do you sound like you? Never mind.

Opening my eyes, I start the long trod from my bedroom, across the hall, and into the living room to the front door. I _could _have just stayed in the living room anyway, like I usually did (I worked at home now because, simply put, I was destined to a loner's existence) but it seems that I needed an extra helping of meaningless memories assaulting me.

Almost there, already! The intervals between each ring are getting shorter by the second. You know that my legs are still shaking, why must you torture me so? I'll be sarcastic to myself if I want, you are _not _allowed to punish me for that. Not after you punished me a year ago.

Finally here. I cast a quick _Petrificus _on my fingers, and they seem to obey me this time. Wouldn't want my guest to be freaked out. Hey... where are you? Where have you gone? Where's your deep baritone that never ceases to remind me of what I've lost?

So does that mean I'm really, truly, alone in every sense of the word?

I suppose I am.

I open the door, and am wholly unsurprised to find one Harry Potter at my doorstep.

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><p><strong>This was originally meant to be a one-shot, but I wanted to write two different endings, so that I shall do. <strong>**I am _so _glad I got this title!**

**Oh, and I'm sorry for it turning somewhat sarcastic near the end. I felt pretty sarcastic too, when I wrote this. I am also sorry for totally butchering this title, it really does deserve better.**


	2. So Much For My Happy Ending

**Disclaimer:**

** I stared unflinchingly at the suited man sitting opposite me. Neither of us moved.**

**I blinked once, determined to at least last a little longer. He raised an eyebrow and waited.**

**Seconds passed.**

**I threw my hands up, exasperated. "Okay, fine! I..."**

**Up went the other eyebrow.**

**"I..." I gritted through my teeth.**

**He cocked his head and asked calmly, "Do you really want to be sued?"**

**I growled, and my shoulders slumped. I knew a lost cause when I saw one. Still, it was nice while it lasted.**

**"I don't own Harry Potter."**

**I'd just like to point out that some of these things have a sort of 'double meaning', I like to call it. Sort of. Ugh, I don't know how to explain. This is the 'sad' ending, so if you don't like sadness, skip to the next chapter. You won't miss much.**

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><p>I thought that I would feel so much pain that I wouldn't be able to breathe. That my chest, empty as it seemed, would freeze over from all the cold gusts of air I took in while hyperventilating. That I would feel an overwhelming wave of nausea, and my head would spin madly. That once again, you would turn my world upside down.<p>

So imagine my surprise, diluted it may be, when none of that happened. Instead I feel even more numb at seeing you look so… well, so different, and yet it seems that you haven't changed a bit. I still see the man I loved –_love- _after all this time in the way you bite your lower lip, in the one hand clenched into a fist at your side in determination, in the way your eyes burned fiercely behind those dreadful glasses.

Oh. I see you've changed your glasses. And you didn't even want to when _we _were together, despite the hundreds of thousands of times that I told you to do so.

Luckily I have the hindsight now to see that my opinion didn't matter, since we were never really together.

I look at you, not with the love that I used to pour in every gaze I sent you, and not with hate either. I look at you like a person greets a guest at a doorstep. Like you're a complete stranger. And I suppose you are, because I never really knew you.

"I…" You start, flushing slightly and shifting from foot to foot. I make no attempt to invite you in, nor do I try to drive you away. So we just stand here, like two idiots, out in the cold night air.

Finally, you seem to have gathered your wits. You look back up at me and ask if you can come in. And what kind of host would I be to turn away a guest, even if that guest is unwanted or uninvited?

You look around at the place warily, as though you expect something to jump out of the shadows. Wearily, I wave my wand and turn on all the lights, closing my eyes as I do so. The room is immediately flooded with light, and I resist the urge to run down the hall, back to the safety and comfort of my dark bedroom.

Opening my eyes moments later, I squint at you-_Potter_, who is standing around looking mildly uncomfortable. I need to stop thinking that you're still in my head.

"Nothing's changed, H-Potter," I sigh. Of course nothing's changed. "Come on, off to my bedroom. Whatever it is you came for, we can talk about it there."

Without waiting for him, I turn and slowly walk back down the hall. I am pleased to note that my legs have calmed down to small shivers. Together, we walk down the empty corridor, plunging back into safe darkness.

I turn into the room, and gesture for him to sit on the couch I previously occupied. Potter looks at the bottle of Firewhiskey on the side table in trepidation. I tiredly assure him that I am not drunk, usher him to his seat and proceed over to the fireplace, leaning against it for support. Potter turns to face me with a careful mixture of ease and tension in his posture.

"So?" I ask.

"Draco… you look like shit." Potter comments, and is that worry in his voice?

I laugh without any humour. "How do you think I feel, then?"

Potter flinches, and looks guiltily at the hands fidgeting in his lap. Looking back up, he says, "So."

"So."

"Tomorrow's your birthday."

"Yes, yes it is."

"I… well…"

"You forgot something else, Potter."

"I…what?"

"Oh do close your mouth, Potter, you look like a goldfish. Tomorrow's also…" I pause dramatically, then wave my hands in the air for emphasis, "your wedding! Ta-dah!"

Potter cringes, and if it weren't possible, he looked even guiltier.

"I'm just… I'm sorry, Draco."

I tilt my head to the side in mock confusion. "Sorry? Sorry for what?

"Are you sorry that you're getting married? Or are you sorry that you won't be celebrating my birthday with me, like you promised you always would? Are you sorry for breaking _so many _promises? Are you sorry for breaking my heart? Are you sorry for having to lie to me? Are you sorry, for, for, what, for the pathetic Death Eater who actually believed you gave a crap? Are you sorry that you wasted so _much_ time, years even, on something that wasn't even real? Are you sorry that I still live and _exist_, because believe me _Potter,_" I spit out the name like a curse, "I sure do."

He pales with every word, and my heart breaks with every word. Is there something left to break? No matter, because every word is true, anyway.

"Gods only know why you're here Potter, because you sure as hell aren't sorry for any of it." I wave a hand airily. "Now go off, shoo! Shouldn't you be with your wife? Or your friends, to celebrate your very last night of being a bachelor?"

He stands up angrily, his eyes flashing, and yells, "Now stop right there, Draco!" I flinch unnecessarily at the use of my first name, and curse myself over and over for doing so. Hah, I can't even keep the Malfoy mask up; look at how you broke everything, Potter! Yet another thing to not be sorry for.

Potter notices, and immediately softens his tone. "Don't… don't put words in my mouth, Draco. I… I never meant to hurt you. I really did love you, but I made a promise to her family, and I can't break a promise to those close to me."

"So that means that I wasn't one of those close to you, then?" I hiss. "Gods, I _never _should have believed you when you promised never to leave me alone. Do you remember when you promised that?"

I was met with silence.

"You promised me that, in 2000. When my father died, and we went together to visit his grave. I confessed one of my deepest fears right then and there, that I would be left all alone. And you assured me that would never happen."

Damn it, my hands have started shaking again. I mutter another _Petrificus_, trying to cast it wandlessly, but it seems our short truce has ended. Sighing again, I lift a trembling hand to push my overgrown fringe away from my face.

Potter's eyes widen and he takes a step forward. "No!" I snarl and move away from the fireplace.

"Don't you _dare _touch me," I growl. "Not with those hands that have touched_ her._"

I bring my shaking body (oh great, a perfect time for my whole body to shake like a leaf) back to the window, where the moonlight shines as brightly as ever. I turn away from him and speak. Unsurprisingly, my voice has started shaking too.

"I trusted you. I really trusted you, when I didn't trust anyone else. And you took that trust, and absolutely _crushed _it." A shaky laugh rattles out, that sounds not the last bit hysterical. "How stupid must I get? The stupid son, the stupid Slytherin, the stupid Death Eater, the stupid fool. And don't you dare try to contradict that statement Potter," I say, sensing more than hearing him open his mouth to speak. "Because you've already proved that it's true."

"But I didn't want to." His words are coloured with anguish.

Another laugh. "Like hell you did."

"You have to understand Draco, that I never, ever meant to hurt you."

"But you _did!_" I practically wailed, and choked on a sob. My control snaps, and I whirl around and grab him by the collar. "You did, and now I'm supposed to just take it." I feel wetness on my face, and never realize that those are tears.

On the lenses of Potter's glasses, I can see two twin reflections of me. And gods, am I a mess. True, I have showered sometime in the day, but my hair was never combed and hung like lifeless clumps across my face. My eyes are bloodshot, and are not far from those of the Dark Lord's. But the thing that gets to me most, the one that really irks me, is the despair etched into every nook and cranny of my features.

And just like that, I release my clamp on his robes, leaving him to flop back in the chair. I look down at my hands, which are shaking more than ever; so much that they've become one big blur. Instead, I grab him by the shoulders, and pull him up towards me.

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><p>Our last kiss was a few seconds ago.<p>

I remember, because I have been savouring the lost feel of his lips on mine until now. I close my eyes and moan into the kiss, if only a bit.

I missed this.

He pushes away, and again he has broken my heart. I feel the violent clench in my chest and my eyes fly open to watch him, who has somehow in the span of a few seconds crossed to the other side of the room.

He's wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his robes.

Oh my god. I am that filthy.

My gaze grows shuttered and his voice is ringing in my ears, but I don't understand a word that he's saying.

He looks desperate. I'm sorry for dirtying you, I won't do it anymore.

Anymore.

I know what to do.

I slowly pull out my wand from my pocket and point it at my forehead. The white noise coming from him stops, as does the rest of him. I open my mouth, and slowly, carefully, recite the list of words that have formed in my mind.

"I once heard… that the Killing Curse can never be used on one's self. Because one person could simply not have that much self-loathing. It was technically impossible but deep down, one would always have the will for self-preservation, no matter how small. Because they always had something to live for; even if that something was just _living_.

"But what happens when you just don't have that will anymore?"

The world suddenly moves in slow motion, except me. I still move at the same speed, and watch as he starts to sluggishly bolt across the room. To me.

Oops, wouldn't want you dirtying yourself of me again.

I open my mouth again, quite slowly this time, to give him the idea that he actually has a chance.

And at a normal speed, I say the words.

"Avada Kedavra."

I see a flash of green, the same green that's haunted my dreams. I hear a sickening crack followed by a pained cry.

"Draco!"

It seems that this takes longer than I thought. Guess I actually had some tiny shadow of that will after all. But I persevere nonetheless, throwing myself into the blissful darkness.

For the first time in a long time, I fall asleep.

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><p><strong>So that's it. My 'sad' ending. The next chapter is the happy ending.<strong>


	3. The End Is The Very Beginning

**Disclaimer: Would you like me to repeat that again? I bet you didn't.**

**Voila! My 'Happy' ending. Because I am that weird. I hope someone enjoyed this fic.**

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><p>I thought that I would feel so much pain that I wouldn't be able to breathe. That my chest, empty as it seemed, would freeze over from all the cold gusts of air I took in while hyperventilating. That I would feel an overwhelming wave of nausea, and my head would spin madly. That once again, you would turn my world upside down.<p>

So imagine my surprise, diluted it may be, when none of that happened. Instead I feel even more numb at seeing you look so… well, so different, and yet it seems that you haven't changed a bit. I still see the man I loved –_love- _after all this time in the way you bite your lower lip, in the one hand clenched into a fist at your side in determination, in the way your eyes burned fiercely behind those dreadful glasses.

Oh. I see you've changed your glasses. And you didn't even want to when _we _were together, despite the hundreds of thousands of times that I told you to do so.

Luckily I have the hindsight now to see that my opinion didn't matter, since we were never really together.

I look at you, not with the love that I used to pour in every gaze I sent you, and not with hate either. I look at you like a person greets a guest at a doorstep. Like you're a complete stranger. And I suppose you are, because I never really knew you.

"I…" You start, flushing slightly and shifting from foot to foot. I make no attempt to invite you in, nor do I try to drive you away. So we just stand here, like two idiots, out in the cold night air.

Finally, you seem to have gathered your wits. You look back up at me and ask if you can come in. And what kind of host would I be to turn away a guest, even if that guest is unwanted or uninvited?

You look around at the place warily, as though you expect something to jump out of the shadows. Wearily, I wave my wand and turn on all the lights, closing my eyes as I do so. The room is immediately flooded with light, and I resist the urge to run down the hall, back to the safety and comfort of my dark bedroom.

Opening my eyes moments later, I squint at you-_Potter_, who is standing around looking mildly uncomfortable. I need to stop thinking that you're still in my head.

"Nothing's changed, H-Potter," I sigh. Of course nothing's changed. "Come on, off to my bedroom. Whatever it is you came for, we can talk about it there."

Without waiting for him, I turn and slowly walk back down the hall. I am pleased to note that my legs have calmed down to small shivers. Together, we walk down the empty corridor, plunging back into safe darkness.

I turn into the room, and gesture for him to sit on the couch I previously occupied. Potter looks at the bottle of Firewhiskey on the side table in trepidation. I tiredly assure him that I am not drunk, usher him to his seat and proceed over to the fireplace, leaning against it for support. Potter turns to face me with a careful mixture of ease and tension in his posture.

"So?" I ask.

"Draco… you look like shit." Potter comments, and is that worry in his voice?

I laugh without any humour. "How do you think I feel, then?"

Potter flinches, and looks guiltily at the hands fidgeting in his lap. Looking back up, he says, "So."

"So."

"Tomorrow's your birthday."

"Yes, yes it is."

"I… well…"

"You forgot something else, Potter."

"I…what?"

"Oh do close your mouth, Potter, you look like a goldfish. Tomorrow's also…" I pause dramatically, then wave my hands in the air for emphasis, "your wedding! Ta-dah!"

Potter cringes, and if it weren't possible, he looked even guiltier.

"I'm just… I'm sorry, Draco."

I tilt my head to the side in mock confusion. "Sorry? Sorry for what?

"Are you sorry that you're getting married? Or are you sorry that you won't be celebrating my birthday with me, like you promised you always would? Are you sorry for breaking _so many _promises? Are you sorry for breaking my heart? Are you sorry for having to lie to me? Are you sorry, for, for, what, for the pathetic Death Eater who actually believed you gave a crap? Are you sorry that you wasted so _much_ time, years even, on something that wasn't even real? Are you sorry that I still live and _exist_, because believe me _Potter,_" I spit out the name like a curse, "I sure do."

He pales with every word, and my heart breaks with every word. Is there something left to break? No matter, because every word is true, anyway.

"Gods only know why you're here Potter, because you sure as hell aren't sorry for any of it." I wave a hand airily. "Now go off, shoo! Shouldn't you be with your wife? Or your friends, to celebrate your very last night of being a bachelor?"

He stands up angrily, his eyes flashing, and yells, "Now stop right there, Draco!" I flinch unnecessarily at the use of my first name, and curse myself over and over for doing so. Hah, I can't even keep the Malfoy mask up; look at how you broke everything, Potter! Yet another thing to not be sorry for.

Potter notices, and immediately softens his tone. "Don't… don't put words in my mouth, Draco. I… I never meant to hurt you. I really did love you, but I made a promise to her family, and I can't break a promise to those close to me."

"So that means that I wasn't one of those close to you, then?" I hiss. "Gods, I _never _should have believed you when you promised never to leave me alone. Do you remember when you promised that?"

I was met with silence.

"You promised me that, in 2000. When my father died, and we went together to visit his grave. I confessed one of my deepest fears right then and there, that I would be left all alone. And you assured me that would never happen."

Damn it, my hands have started shaking again. I mutter another _Petrificus_, trying to cast it wandlessly, but it seems our short truce has ended. Sighing again, I lift a trembling hand to push my overgrown fringe away from my face.

Potter's eyes widen and he takes a step forward. "No!" I snarl and move away from the fireplace.

"Don't you _dare _touch me," I growl. "Not with those hands that have touched_ her._"

I bring my shaking body (oh great, a perfect time for my whole body to shake like a leaf) back to the window, where the moonlight shines as brightly as ever. I turn away from him and speak. Unsurprisingly, my voice has started shaking too.

"I trusted you. I really trusted you, when I didn't trust anyone else. And you took that trust, and absolutely _crushed _it." A shaky laugh rattles out, that sounds not the last bit hysterical. "How stupid must I get? The stupid son, the stupid Slytherin, the stupid Death Eater, the stupid fool. And don't you dare try to contradict that statement Potter," I say, sensing more than hearing him open his mouth to speak. "Because you've already proved that it's true."

"But I didn't want to." His words are coloured with anguish.

Another laugh. "Like hell you did."

"You have to understand Draco, that I never, ever meant to hurt you."

"But you _did!_" I practically wailed, and choked on a sob. My control snaps, and I whirl around and grab him by the collar. "You did, and now I'm supposed to just take it." I feel wetness on my face, and never realize that those are tears.

On the lenses of Potter's glasses, I can see two twin reflections of me. And gods, am I a mess. True, I have showered sometime in the day, but my hair was never combed and hung like lifeless clumps across my face. My eyes are bloodshot, and are not far from those of the Dark Lord's. But the thing that gets to me most, the one that really irks me, is the despair etched into every nook and cranny of my features.

And just like that, I release my clamp on his robes, leaving him to flop back in the chair. I look down at my hands, which are shaking more than ever; so much that they've become one big blur. Instead, I grab him by the shoulders, and pull him up towards me.

* * *

><p>Our last kiss was a few seconds ago.<p>

I remember, because I have been savouring the lost feel of his lips on mine until now. I close my eyes and moan into the kiss, if only a bit.

I missed this.

He pushes away, and again he has broken my heart. I feel the violent clench in my chest and my eyes fly open to watch him, who has somehow in the span of a few seconds crossed to the other side of the room.

He's wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his robes.

Oh my god. I am that filthy.

My gaze grows shuttered and his voice is ringing in my ears, but I don't understand a word that he's saying.

He looks desperate. I'm sorry for dirtying you, I won't do it anymore.

Anymore.

I know what to do.

I slowly pull out my wand from my pocket and point it at my forehead. The white noise coming from him stops, as does the rest of him. I open my mouth, and slowly, carefully, recite the list of words that have formed in my mind.

"I once heard… that the Killing Curse can never be used on one's self. Because one person could simply not have that much self-loathing. It was technically impossible but deep down, one would always have the will for self-preservation, no matter how small. Because they always had something to live for; even if that something was just _living_.

"But what happens when you just don't have that will anymore?"

The world suddenly moves in slow motion, except me. I still move at the same speed, and watch as he starts to sluggishly bolt across the room. To me.

Oops, wouldn't want you dirtying yourself of me again.

I open my mouth again, quite slowly this time, to give him the idea that he actually has a chance.

And at a normal speed, I say the words.

"Avada-"

I feel a weight slamming into me and I see a flash of green, the same green that's haunted my dreams.

I hear a sickening crack echo throughout the room and a pained cry.

"Draco!"

Nothing.

* * *

><p>Groggily I wake up and notice that I am lying on the floor, behind the chair and away from the growing intensity of the light. There is no trace of Harry in sight. Panicked, I sit up, and feel myself reeling from the excruciating pain in my head. I scrunch up my eyes and groan in pain, both the one in my chest and my head. Slowly I lay my head back down onto my nice, soft, warm pillow.<p>

Wait.

My eyes shoot open once more and I look into the tearful eyes of the love of my life. I can't believe this is real. Hesitantly, I bring a hand up to cup his cheek, relishing the warmth that emanated from it.

"Real," I breathed, and sighed. "You're real."

Harry sighs and closes his eyes, nuzzling into my palm.

My eyes widen and I yank my hand back as if I were burnt. He opens his eyes and looks at me with worry and hurt.

"What's wrong?" He asks, and belatedly I feel his arms tighten across my torso. Terrified, I try to squirm weakly out of his hold.

"No! Get away from me! I'm dirty! NO!" I whimper pathetically as he pulls me up to let my head rest in the crook of his shoulder, whilst his head is buried in mine.

Tired of struggling, I let my head fall limply and the tears, this time of frustration, flow once again. His muffled voice rumbles through me.

"Not dirty. You will never be dirty to me."

I sob again, my hands lifting up and clutching his robes. He holds me even tighter.

I cast another of my modified spells, a _Tempus_, and in my mind flashes the time. It's 6:29.

"Happy Birthday to me," I whisper and chuckle wearily. And tighter yet his embrace becomes. I feel myself getting drowsy in this all-encompassing warmth, the first time in over a year. How I would have liked for this moment to last.

As though he has sensed my sleepiness, Harry rubs soothing circles onto my back.

"Draco," He murmurs, and I give a sound of acknowledgement.

"I choose you."

How are you supposed to sleep after hearing that?

"W…what?" I stammer, and turn my head to glimpse the side of his face. Through my peripheral vision, I see his pupils at the corner of his eyes as well, looking at me.

"I choose you, Draco. I won't be going to that farce of a wedding." He laughs at his own joke, and I am too bewildered to do much else besides stare. "I love you, Draco, and if I can't marry you, then I won't marry anyone else. I don't expect you to take me back, but I intend to spend the rest of my life making things right, to give you a happy life. Even if that isn't with me."

"Do you…" Another sob, a sniffle and a teary laugh. "Do you really mean that?"

Harry smiles and mouths the one word that had once been my downfall.

_Yes._

"I will always want you, Harry."

Harry rocks us slowly, back and forth, whispering sweet nothings. Dawn arrives, and with it the whispers of hope for a future.

For the first time in a long time, I fall asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>And that's it! The alternate ending of The Last Kiss. Hope you all enjoyed it, whoever you are, and good morningafternoon/night.**


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